6

THE sunlight poured through the windows and Rafael Cordeiro watched as the colour fled from her cheeks.

Your game’s up, beauty, he said to himself, wondering how she could have been so naïve as to think that he wouldn’t discover what was going on in her company. Not that she hadn’t been clever, because she had. The numbers added up. Most people wouldn’t have spotted what he had.

Most people didn’t have his lack of faith in human nature.

At first glance her accounts appeared to reveal nothing more than a business that was slow to get off the ground. And her apparent desire to be friendly and chatty was a strategy that might well have succeeded with a man less cynical and experienced with her sex than him. Grace Thacker came across as engaging, enthusiastic and refreshingly open.

A different man could have been impressed by her admission of disappointment that her business should have been in profit by now.

A different man might have allowed himself to believe in her innocence.

It was fortunate for him, and unfortunate for her, that his speciality was greedy, unscrupulous women. Had that not been the case, his suspicions wouldn’t have been roused and he would never have discovered that Café Brazil wasn’t what it claimed to be and that Grace Thacker was a long way from being the caring, magnanimous employer

that she pretended to be.

The fact that she had the nerve to turn up here and beg him to keep pouring money into her little scam was yet another testament to her greed and lack of conscience.

In normal circumstances he would have allocated one of his staff to sort out the problem, but in Grace Thacker’s case he’d decided that he was going to deal with her personally.

Looking at her polished nails and shiny hair, he felt a slow, burning anger build inside him. She looked pampered and secure and it was quite obvious that she didn’t know the meaning of the word hardship. Did she have any idea how it felt to be cold and hungry? Did she know what it felt like to try and sleep without a roof over her pretty little head?

No, of course she didn’t. Why would she?

He was willing to bet that the biggest struggle in her life so far had been deciding which heels to wear with which outfit.

When she’d contacted him, requesting a meeting, his initial reaction had been to refuse. Why waste his time on her? But then he’d decided on a different approach.

Retribution.

Grace Thacker had shattered lives and was about to shatter more.

She should be made to face the consequences of her unscrupulous behaviour. She should be made to suffer. He hadn’t decided how yet, but he was working on it.

And looking at her now, dressed in a suit that had undoubtedly cost an obscene amount of money, wearing shoes that shrieked of sex, expecting

him to extend his loan in her business, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Just how far, he wondered idly as he admired her slender ankles and the soft curve of her calf, was she prepared to go in her attempts to persuade him? It was a pity for her that he never allowed his sex life and his business life to overlap because the chemistry between them had been live and electric from the moment she’d caught her heel on the walkway. She’d stooped to release her shoe and that action had allowed him a tempting vision of lacy white bra and creamy cleavage. Her silky sheet of blonde hair had swung forward over her face and her lips had parted in a soft gasp as she’d struggled not to lose her balance.

For a moment the anger simmering to life inside him had been overwhelmed by a surge of masculine lust so intense that it had bordered on the painful.

And then she’d noticed him. And had clutched at her briefcase like a lifebelt. That gesture alone had been sufficient to quench his libido and remind him of the reason she was here.

Money.

Aside from the shiny hair, the tempting cleavage and the long legs, Grace Thacker was no different from any other greedy woman.

Dark memories swirled up from the recesses of his mind but he pushed them away with ruthless determination, instead turning the full force of his anger onto Grace Thacker.

No wonder her father hadn’t come, he thought bitterly. They obviously hadn’t wanted anything to dilute the pure, virginal image she presented in her white shirt and her clean, shiny hair. If she’d been

standing in front of a judge and jury, they’d have cleared her of murder.

She stood, frozen to the spot, her expression suitably confused as she considered his question. ‘Why would I have trouble sleeping at night?’ Her expression was innocent, her complexion as pure and English as clotted cream.

He was willing to bet she’d had a traditional English upbringing. She’d probably attended one of those starched girls’ boarding-schools that taught the essential rule for surviving in life—namely how to part a man from his wallet.

The usual technique was to marry a rich guy and then divorce and take him to the cleaners. The three Rs of female money-making—Reel in a wealthy guy, Rip him off and Retire.

He wondered why Grace Thacker hadn’t taken that route. Perhaps she considered it too much bother.

He suppressed his natural inclination to confront her with the information in his possession and conclude the meeting as swiftly as possible.

That approach made it all a bit too easy for her, didn’t it? She’d protest a bit at first, probably bluster and deny everything until she realised just how much he knew, then she’d probably use tears or sex to persuade him not to prosecute. Either way, she’d fly back to London without her loan and that would be the end of that.

And he didn’t want it to be the end.

She was going to suffer. He wanted her to feel some of the worry and uncertainty that she’d inflicted on others. And she was worried, he could

see it in her eyes. Despite the act, Grace Thacker was nervous.

‘Why would you think I might not be able to sleep at night?’ Her blue eyes were wide. ‘You mean, because I’m worrying about how we’ll pay off our debts if you call in your loan?’

No, he hadn’t meant that, but he decided to go along with her. ‘Are you worried?’

‘Of course.’ She gave him a shy smile that faltered under his grim stare. ‘So many people are depending on me but you just have to push that out of your head, don’t you, or you’d go nuts?’

He leaned back in his chair and watched her, searching for cracks, flaws. Any sign that she had a human streak. Any sign of remorse. But there was nothing. Just a flicker of wariness that suggested that he was the one who was being unreasonable. ‘So you don’t think about other people?’

She frowned slightly. ‘Well, it’s hard not to, when you’re responsible for their income, but it’s important that you don’t let emotion affect what needs to be done or everyone suffers.’

Memories, vile and deadly, slid into his brain and this time there was no holding them back.

Suddenly he was eight years old again. Eight years old and totally alone. Starving hungry. Frightened. Lost in the dark. Surrounded by menacing and unfamiliar sounds that all meant danger. Freezing sweat bathed his body and he rose to his feet and paced across to the window, struggling to free himself from the dark tentacles of his past.

For a moment he stood still, steadying his breathing, and then he

turned to face her, nothing of his feelings showing on his face. ‘So would you describe yourself as ruthless?’

‘Honestly?’ The corners of her soft mouth lifted. ‘No, I’m not. But I don’t think you necessarily have to be ruthless to succeed in business.’

‘What about deceitful and manipulative?’ Rafael kept his tone neutral. ‘Are those qualities that you consider necessary for corporate advancement?’

She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand where this conversation is going.’

‘No?’ But she was wondering, she had to be. And suddenly he decided on a course of action.

He was going to show her the consequences of her actions. Personally. And, in doing so, he was going to make sure that she suffered. Really suffered. His eyes rested on the neat little suit and the sexy shoes with the thin, tall heel. Oh, yes, she was going to suffer.

Generally speaking his interest in women’s clothing was only sparked by the removal process, but he did know that four-inch heels and the jungle were a less than promising combination. ‘Did you pack a bag, Miss Thacker?’

‘For what?’

‘I want you to stay for a few days, as my guest.’ He pushed away a disturbingly clear image of her naked body reclining in his sumptuous guest bedroom and instead imagined her picking her way along a rough jungle path in a pair of heels designed for a short stroll round a glittery shopping mall. ‘You’ve come all this way. There are a few things I’d like

to show you, while you’re here.’

Like snakes, spiders and more jungle than you’ve ever dreamed of.

The wariness in her eyes grew. ‘A moment ago you were telling me that I only had ten minutes. Why would you suddenly invite me to stay?’

Because he was going to drive her tension levels into outer space. And then he was going to make her sorry. Really, really sorry.

‘I’m always impressed by determination, Miss Thacker,’ he drawled, suppressing the irony in his tone. ‘You’ve earned yourself extra time.’

There was a flicker of hope in her eyes. ‘You’re prepared to give me more time?’

‘Providing you agree to let me show you the magic of our rainforest.’ His silky tone didn’t appear to ring any alarm bells because she gave him a warm, trusting smile.

‘Thank you so much.’ She clasped her hands in front of her. ‘You won’t regret it. We can chat on the journey.’

Chat? Wondering whether to point out that the word didn’t actually exist in his vocabulary, Rafael shot her an incredulous glance and then realised that she truly had absolutely no concept of what lay in store for her.

By the time he’d finished with her she was more likely to be screaming than chatting.

‘I look forward to showing you some of the rare and beautiful sights of my country,’ he purred. ‘I would relish the opportunity to take you to certain parts which I think would be of interest.’

One of which might well be his bedroom, he thought idly, watching the

colour that touched her cheeks. It was true that he preferred to keep his business life and his sex life separate, but Grace Thacker couldn’t really be counted as business because he was going to see to it personally that her business was finished. Which meant that he could legitimately turn his attention to pleasure.